


First Night

by lumiere42



Series: Retrograde [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: AU, F/M, Maeve ain't precisely NT either, Reid is autistic, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumiere42/pseuds/lumiere42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things REALLY happened a little differently. AU for events after "Zugzwang"</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Criminal Minds or anything else copyrighted herein. Homage, no $$$ made.

_January 16:_

The bang is huge, shattering, sending her hearing away down a long buzzing tunnel, and then there's a horrible wet _spatter_ against her left side and something crumpled and limp falls on her. She closes her eyes, _no, no I want to be gone now I can't_ , and there's a lot of vibration in the ground around her like feet running and the faintest distant shouting through the ringing in her ears. Someone is pulling the crumpled thing off her, there are hands on her shoulders and she squints up into the light and confusion. Spencer, kneeling beside her, dark eyes wide and frightened and his mouth moving. She can't understand what he's saying, and she can't make her own words get from brain to mouth, so she reaches up and grabs his arm just to let him know she's okay. There's blood running down her arm that isn't hers, splotches of tissue too, and she just manages to comprehend what that means before graying out.

*********

She surfaces back to awareness in the ambulance, scratchy wool blanket and too many too bright lights, her hearing still full of roaring. There's a lot of chatter rising and falling outside, the sounds of agitated conversation and crackling police radios. Some businesslike young EMT inspecting her head, shining a scope in her eyes, asking questions she is only able to respond to after a long lag. The quick sting of an injection in the curve of her right elbow, then he finally withdraws. Cold. She's cold and shaking and there's blood drying on her. She pulls the blanket over her head and curls up on the gurney, as tightly as she can.

*********

"Maeve. Hey, Maeve?"

Someone is shaking her, very gently, and she pokes her head out of the blanket. Spencer, still in Kevlar, leaning over her. Still looking very agitated, but his voice is calmer and clearer now. The sound in her ears is ebbing to a faint rush.

"Hey. They're pretty much done here." His hand lingers on her shoulder. "The EMT said you're okay..."

It takes so much effort to speak. "She's dead?"

"Yes."

"You're...sure?..."

"I saw them carrying her off in the body bag myself." He's cupping her hands in his now, warming them. "They're still not sure if she shot herself or if oneof the team shot her, there was crossfire, but the forensics people'll figure that out and it's not like it really matters anyway, does it?"

She laughs, a little shaky laugh that comes out more of a gasp. "I wannago home now."

"Um, about that? You won't be able to go back to your place tonight. Morgan just told me it's still an active crime scene. They should be done with it tomorrow, but _-_ "He lowers his head a little, so his hair is hanging in his face and she can't quite see him. "We can take you to a hotel somewhere if you want? Or you could come to my place - it's just, it's late and the EMTs said it might not be a great idea for you to be alone tonight, in case there's some delayed aftereffects or -"

She squeezes his hands and nods, even though it makes her head hurt.

*********

The blond woman - JJ, judging from Spencer's past description - drives them back to his place. The dashboard clock says 1:32 a.m. There's rain starting to drizzle down outside, slicking the mostly empty streets. No one says anything. Spencer is sitting in the back seat with her, staring down at his hands as he makes the same repetitive series of flickering movements with his fingers, like he's playing a small invisible harp.

She makes it out of the van and into the building's entryway just fine. Halfway up the stairs to the second-floor landing everything feels like it's _tilting_ beneath her. Spencer puts an arm around her and steers her the rest of the way.

His living room is small and dim and quiet. She sits on the couch, in the little pool of yellow light from the table lamp. He disappears down the hallway to what she assumes is the bedroom, because she hears drawer opening-and-closing sounds and brief creaking of bedsprings. Finally he emerges, with an armful of clothes.

"I'll leave these in the bathroom for you. It' _s_ the first door on the left." He stands there, at the hallway's end, looking uncertain. "Do you...want to try washing what you're wearing?"

She looks down at herself, all the horrid stains drying to maroon and _damnit_ , this had been one of her favorite sweaters, too. "Forget it. I'll pitch them."

He nods.

*********

The bathroom is entirely covered in opalescent yellow tile, overhead light gleaming back at her a hundred times over. The sound of the shower running makes her ears smart again, but she turns it as hot as she can stand anyway and then just sits in the tub, spray pouring over her. Rushing water and tile gleam and Diane's blood sluicing off her, swirling down the drain in little threads. Eventually she remembers to wash herself.

The clothes Spencer left for her are old and soft, a very elderly CalTech sweatshirt with holes in the elbows and sweatpants that are almost hopelessly long on her. She has to fold up the legs to get her feet out.

He's made up a bed for her on the couch, two quilts and a pillow. She crawls between the quilts. Rain is starting to batter insistently on the window. She can hear him rummaging in the bedroom again, then running his own shower. She just manages to switch the lamp off before sleep takes her.

*********

She wakes up screaming, fighting the blankets because they're trying to swallow her, oh God the gun is still pressed against her head and she hits something hard -

Yellow lamplight flickering on, and she's on the floor in a tangle of quilts and Spencer's there, trying to untangle and calm and hold her all at once. She grabs his shoulders and pushes her head into his chest, hard, and they just sit there like that for a long while. She's not crying, not quite, but she can hear how quick and frightened her own breathing sounds. She's vaguely aware of him rubbing her back.

She follows him back to bed without either of them actually suggesting, or even saying, anything about it. The bedroom is even darker, curtains over the window. The bed is king-size, and the comforter is so heavy its weight is almost instantly relaxing. There's a fan somewhere in here, emitting a steady _shhhh_ of white noise, and there's some kind of light-up gadget on the bedside table projecting a dense scatter of faux stars on the ceiling. She's very grateful it's not completely dark.

Spencer climbs in next to her. She's shivering, hard.

"'m cold."

"You're in shock," he whispers back. "The sedative they gave you mustbe wearing off." There's enough room in the bed that they don't have to touch, but he takes her hand anyway.

Finally, she sleeps, fitfully.

*********

Morning, dull gray light seeping in through the curtains. She doesn't remember where she is at first, and then everything floods back and she has to just lie there for a while, letting it sink in. _This is real. She's dead. It's over._ _I can have my life back, God, I can hardly remember how to DO that_ \- well, it wasn't like she had to solve all that _now_.

Spencer's asleep beside her, curled up, snoring faintly. She climbs out of bed carefully, so as not to wake him, and pads into the kitchen. There's not much here. Dirty dishes piled in the sink and empty Chinese takeout cartons on the counter, a lot of canned soup in the cupboard and microwave Indian food in the freezer. A bottle of extremely good bourbon on top of the fridge. A little hunting turns up bagels and peanut butter and a clean plate.

The newspaper thwacks against the door just as she's about to settle on the couch. She checks, then rechecks, the peephole before darting out to get it.

She reads as she eats, with a kind of stupefied wonder. Something as simple as a _paper_ , she hadn't been able to subscribe or easily go out to buy one for more than a year...

The _Local_ section has an article just below the fold, _Alleged 'Stalker' Killed in FBI Shootout_ , and yes it's about last night and she folds that section up and shoves it under the coffee table, without reading it.

Rustling and footsteps coming down the hall, and Spencer emerges, rumple-haired and blinking owlishly. He looks confused, and then his eyes widen and he smiles at her, this big, doofy grin.

"Hi."

"Hi." She points at the table. "Your Local section's under there. There's something in it about what happened, I just can't deal with looking at it right now."

He nods and shuffles into the kitchen area, where he clatters around making coffee. She tries to be subtle about eyeing him as he does. He's wearing green pajamas with _feet_. She hadn't known those came in adult sizes, especially for someone as tall as he was.

"Are you supposed to be at work today?" she asks.

"Hotch told me to take a couple days. We'll have to give official statements, but I've got the paperwork for that here. I can ask Garcia or JJ to stop by and get them tonight."

He brings her coffee and sits next to her. He doesn't really look at her, but that's okay. He's already explained about listening better if he doesn't have to look, and she'd rather he be able to listen.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Reborn." It's the first word that comes to mind. She hopes it doesn't sound corny, because it's _true_. "And hey, you realize what else?"

"What?"

"At least we finally got to meet."

He goggles at her and then starts laughing, and then _she_ starts laughing, like she hasn't been able to in so long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
